


lie to me (but do it with sincerity)

by rottedflowerpits



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, definitely lies more in, idk sometimes u gotta write the evil boyfriend doing something unsavory, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 08:56:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16238318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rottedflowerpits/pseuds/rottedflowerpits
Summary: “You're only left with me, Keith,” Shiro continued, bared fangs turning into a wicked grin. “The others, your coalition, it's all gone. But that doesn't matter to you, does it?”





	lie to me (but do it with sincerity)

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

_shiro's gone mad_

_he's taken lotor_

_shiro isn't shiro anymore_

The words circled Keith's head space, slowly draining to the center of self-reflection and delayed realization. There was already so much bludgeoning what limited resources and hands they had, and Keith felt himself tear between staying with the Paladins and defeating the oncoming threat that was Lotor, or laying everything down to save Shiro... 

Again. 

Frozen in place, he actually thought about it. He really did. But Keith's faults ran as deep as he was human, and despite the glaring violet haze of Galra that made up the other half of his phosphates, he would always find himself default to the former. After all, it had just been him and Shiro, as human as they could get between the greasy takeout and cutting curfew, sneaking out to ride the sands, reveling in what it felt like to be _alive._ At the end of the day, it had always been Shiro who was there for him, and well...if Keith had to chase Shiro to the ends of the universe to make sure he was there for him, Keith knew long ago what his answer would be. 

Again, and again, and again. As many times as it took. 

Keith just really hadn't anticipated the road he'd suddenly walk. Thrust to the other side of a wormhole and into dead space he didn't recognize, that was one thing. An entire Galran fleet was another. Shiro, though...Shiro escaping it at all, and somehow Keith in tandem too, was a separate thing on its own plane of reality all together. 

Keith heaved against Black's handlebars, calling out to Shiro desperately. Shiro putting the metaphorical distance of an entire universe between them was unsettling enough, but the inky void around them, lacking the spectral colors of exploding and dying stars and leaving them in a primordial darkness, was enough to tip the balance to downright bone-chilling. Keith kept his eyes on the shuttle ahead of him, dragging his tongue over his dry mouth. But the deep-seated anxiety he felt in his chest lingered, settling against his sternum like a ten-pound weight. 

Shiro dragged him to where the light didn't go. It was only far off in the distance that Keith could see the faintest glimmer of dusted stars, blinking in and out before disappearing entirely. They crossed the vast expanse of the dead void for what felt like an eternity before finally, finally, the tiny speck of Shiro's ship disappeared into the minor atmosphere of some satellite moon abandoned and left behind by its own gravitational pull. 

Keith, without so much as a second thought to the surroundings, the integral structure of the celestial body, landed Black on its surface. They landed quietly and cautiously, and despite the lack of life and noise in general, Keith kept himself as silent as he could manage. 

Footsteps guided his way from their vessels, inlaid in silvery blue-hued powder dusted across the moon's surface. They were a paladin's footprints, and Keith followed them devoutly into the gaping maw of an internal cave system. At first glance the composition was natural. At a longer, harder gaze, the cut of the stone became more methodical and architectural in appearance, giving away the fact that something more was going on here.

Keith sucked in a sharp breath at the first shine of neon purple. He didn't really expect much else, but the deep mauve hues were enough to turn his heart into a battering ram. His chest physically ached with the compromising situation, and he did his best to breathe around the pain that squeezed his lungs and heart. 

For what it was worth, there wasn't much to the cave's system and inlaid Galran transportation at all. But for also what it was worth, a single elevator awaited him at the end. It was like some sort of consolation prize, promising an answer Keith didn't know the question to. It loomed over him with the oppressing atmosphere of the myth of an elder god itself, and Keith nearly balked underneath the pressure. 

He really could have turned around and saved this for last. But turning back wasn't an option. It never had been. He wasn't one to shy away from his faults, not anymore. Shiro was his ally, his best friend, and his greatest vice. His center of reasoning and his baleful weakness. It was unhealthy. But Keith was ever the fool pulled relentlessly from his deck of cards, and he swallowed his reasoning down to replace with his hubris and determination instead. 

The mantra that had so quickly become the background to his meager life were the reverent words he was currently rehearsing inside his head: _Shiro would do anything for me. He knows I would do anything for him._

Keith barely registered the neon streaks as they flew by, burning his retinas and leaving their semi-permanent impressions. He didn't quite know what to expect at the end of his current road, what to see or what to do, but the possibilities rang louder in his head with every passing second until it was almost too much. 

Coming up on that swelling crest of everything bubbling into _too much_ , Keith stumbled from the elevator in a haze before he had a chance to turn back and run away. The silence was palpable, settling on Keith's tongue and turning his mouth to cotton. It was impossible to form any words, even Shiro's name as his eyes sought so desperately after the familiar form of his beloved friend. 

...And maybe beloved was a little more true, these days. Maybe it wasn't even enough to describe what they were anymore. Thousands of galaxies and hundreds of planets and millions of light years had changed them, and irreparably so. They'd come so far from back in their day, from scruffy delinquent and fading captain. They'd learned to adapt and survive, and they'd done it together. It had taken Keith so long to realize the hidden meaning behind it all. Thankfully, he had known what to do with it all before the feeling could choke him and make him fail on self-doubts and endless introspection.

So Keith kept searching, swallowing hard and steeling himself. 

Where he had ended up was a research facility. Regarding the tubes lining the open walkways like an esoteric library, he could at least tell that much. At the end of the cavernous room lie a single medical bed, empty and calling out to him. 

Something wasn't right, though. Keith tore his gaze to one of the tubes, his ears picking up on the faintest of electrical hums the closer he walked towards one. The frosted glass gave away nothing as he approached it. Keith pondered over its meaning, what it could possibly hold inside itself, when he reached out slowly with trembling fingers. 

A second before they made contact, a milky liquid drained from the interior and Keith jolted backwards. Fire spread from his fingertips to his elbow, numbing him to the shoulder. The same feeling spread out from there, into his chest and up into his throat. Keith stared, wide-eyed, at the lifeless corpse of a Shiro that time had forgotten. 

“Hello, Keith.” 

It was the only outside stimulus Keith could register in the current moment, locked eyes with the exact replica of a Shiro that had been left behind. By what, Keith didn't know, but the discovery and the inkling as to _why_ deeply disturbed him. He tore his eyes away from synthetic black hair to white, his gaze finding a new place to land: the other Shiro. His Shiro.

The other Shiro's eyes were full of hidden malice, tucked away behind vague recognition when Keith called out his name. They were darker, gunmetal grey turned black as an evening storm and laced through with purple lightning. But whatever amicable feelings that may have managed to linger faded rapidly with each advanced movement and word from the other. 

Keith's desperate calls fell on deaf ears. 

Shiro's state of mind did its best to beat him down, but Keith only fought it with enduring determination. He knew there would only be one way to end that night, but Keith hadn't expected Shiro to be so far gone. Every blow, every shout, every word and every move made against him, Keith only realized all the more with choking despair that his road had come to an abrupt end. 

And with Shiro's blade currently pressed to his throat, he supposed, long ago, he'd already decided he'd be okay with the outcome if they ever made it to this kind of end.

Keith swallowed hard, fighting the pressure against his jugular. 

“You're like a brother to me,” he gasped, his own words distant, disembodied. “I love you, Shiro—”

“Keith,” Shiro husked, his voice raking coals in his chest. “Just give in. There's no point to anything now. The one you _love_ can't hear a word of what you're saying. You want to know why? It's because he's already dead, Keith.” 

The heat from Shiro's blade gave way to an auditory _hiss._ Keith gasped and struggled, but try as he might, it really did seem hopeless. Shiro pressed in harder, closer, and just when Keith was able to finally tap into the last reserves of his strength, it...stopped. 

The searing pain, anyway. Keith was left with the scent of his burning flesh and stuttered breathing, eyes wide and wild as he searched Shiro's face. His weight settled against Keith and kept him pinned, and despite a literal two years of isolated growth, it still wasn't enough for the steel wall Shiro had suddenly become. 

“You're only left with me, Keith,” Shiro continued, bared fangs turning into a wicked grin. “The others, your coalition, it's all gone. But that doesn't matter to you, does it?” 

Blade turned to hand, and it was quick to replace the space at Keith's neck. Metallic fingers wrapped tight around his throat, crushing his arteries and rendering his vision immediately blotched. The same heat that had burned his cheek was at his jugular, strangling the life slowly from Keith's eyes.

“In the end,” Shiro continued, his voice rising into a roar, “all you ever wanted was Shiro. It didn't matter what happened to the others. In the end, you would have sacrificed it all to hear what you so dearly wanted to hear from this pitiful specimen's mouth. All you wanted...” 

Shiro bore down harder against Keith, and his vision split into shattered fragments, the darkness threatening at the edges. 

“All you wanted was _Shiro_. Well, guess what, baby?” 

Shiro leaned back, just enough to keep Keith conscious. He struggled to breathe, using the newfound freedom to weakly claw at Shiro's arm. At some point his blade had been kicked out of his reach, leaving him to the mercy of the man above him. 

“You're gonna get him. But you're gonna have to deal with a different name to the face. This isn't your Shiro, sweetheart. No, this is _Kuron.”_ His eyes flashed, and in Keith's dimming vision, the split of his smile seemed to stretch along his molars and back to his ears. Every tooth grew jagged and pointed, and Keith squirmed harder underneath his restraint. 

Kuron's arm was unmoving. It clutched Keith harder in its grasp, and his back involuntarily arched against the ground. The groan of creaking and scraping metal filled the air around them, but stable as they were on their platform, Kuron didn't seem to mind. 

His other hand moved to caress Keith's cheek. It was so jarring from dancing the edge of consciousness that Keith jerked from the touch, sucking air desperately from around them to keep himself lucid. 

“I don't know what that man ever saw in you,” Kuron said, his voice dipped to a low growl. “He fought, and he fought, to keep hold of himself. Just for you, you know. Every pathetic moment of his short, miserable life was spent thinking about you, being around you. It was sickening, and I have every right to snap your neck and end the pathetic plight of our lives right here and now.” 

Kuron's eyes flashed with something more. “But,” he elaborated, “I won't do that. Because, you see, there's a little secret I'm willing to share, but you have to keep it between you and me. You've gotta promise me, Keith, that you won't utter a word to anyone else.” 

Keith swallowed hard. He'd gone still, pupils flared and hands wrapped hard enough to bruise around Kuron's wrist. He didn't say anything, jaw set as he focused on the meager breaths he could manage through his nose. 

“That black lion of yours is hiding a secret from you. While you and I got cozy, Shiro's been watching this whole time.”

“What are you talking about?” Keith barked the question, the false bite to his tone giving way to desperation. 

Since the beginning, he'd known something wasn't right. Being with the Blades had taught him that much. Stumbling across every crumbled facility upon abandoned facility, full of failed clone experiments, clones harvested for quintessence—it was enough to make anyone sick to the core. Kolivan had let Keith expand on the discoveries, and harrowing as it was to traverse a plane of twisted creations like the ones he'd seen, it wasn't difficult at all to find even more outposts full of the same in the far corners of the universe. 

Keith knew playing god wasn't above the Galra, but the level at which they did it was abhorrent. But like a trainwreck, Keith couldn't stop following the isolated breadcrumbs until it led him to a lonely facility in the cold, frigid reaches of a dying system. 

There hadn't been much left in those ruins. What remained, though, would kick start Keith's adrenaline as it all fell into place: he'd learned of Kuron before all of this. 

Everything hit Keith as hard as a line of coke. “ _You're_ Kuron,” he gasped, words stumbling over each other. He continued to claw uselessly at Kuron's arm, writhing underneath the pressure. Keith's current demeanor, the tone in his voice, though; it all just seemed to excite Kuron that much more. 

“That's right, Keith. Good job,” he purred, dipping slowly closer and closing the gap between them. He pressed his open mouth to Keith's, smiling as his sharpened canines bit at Keith's lower lip. 

“You knew since the beginning, didn't you? You knew, and had it proven to you, even, that I'm not what you so desperately sought after, now am I?” 

The glint to Kuron's eyes darkened, and he moved smoothly and quietly to sit on Keith's groin. Keith balked and struggled underneath the weight, but Kuron's hand tightened its grip again and adopted a subtle glow. Keith gasped hard underneath the weight and sudden heat, eyes wide as he kicked his legs out. 

He hadn't realized that he had been crying until he heaved around an anguished, _“Please...”_

The tears splashed down his cheeks, salty as they accumulated in and around his Cupid's bow. Keith sucked them past his trembling lips and only ended up choking on them too, but he was too far gone at this point to care. What little air he managed to get was spent on pleading with Kuron, his voice breaking and running on the implications of words instead. 

Kuron growled, pressing hard enough to cut Keith's voice entirely. “He's not here anymore, Keith. _He_ , the one before me, isn't here anymore, either. There's no point, Keith. There's no one left. Just give in.” 

All too suddenly, and cutting through the melting candle of Keith's only stable thoughts, it hit him. Between wondering how this could be happening, if there was any way to help Kuron, or if he even should have, it was as clear as Kuron currently physically kissing him: giving in meant something else entirely, now. 

Keith fought it, at first. The far screech of echoing metal and the cold bite of a barely-sustained atmosphere all told him this wasn't the place or the time for something like this. Keith listened to that first and fought back with fangs of his own, biting and tearing at Kuron's mouth in between strangled gasps in the hopes to get him to stop. 

Ingrained in Keith's muscles, though, he knew Shiro wouldn't stop. 

“Even if you do manage to make it out of here,” he grunted, tearing into Keith's vulnerable flesh, “I want him to see you ruined. You were never his and he was never yours. It's only right that he knows how it's going to go between you and me.” 

Kuron sucked at Keith's lower lip, harsh and biting, before grazing his teeth over his jaw. The enamel was like a serrated knife's blade and Keith gasped, squirming underneath his grip one last time. He tried anything, _something,_ to kick his blade back within reach. 

Kuron read every move of his, and met it with a punishing weight to Keith's scrambling limbs. Just one hand of Kuron's was capable of wrangling Keith's wrists into a tight grip, the other still at Keith's neck. The most he could do was utilize his legs to the best of his ability, but lack of oxygen and the fight from earlier quickly had him reaching exhausted and without fire left to burn. 

Open and flayed, Kuron took advantage of Keith's weakened state. He leaned down and closed the gap between them, shoving his tongue harshly past Keith's parted lips. It pushed deep, nearly to the back of his throat. It tickled the roof of his mouth and made him gag, teeth threatening at the base of Kuron's tongue. 

Kuron hissed and moved his hand from Keith's neck to his jaw. A metallic finger pushed past the corner of his mouth and wedged itself between his molars, the other fingers holding Keith's mouth agape. It was awkward positioning and Keith grunted his discomfort, but the noises were smothered by Kuron's mouth again, sharp teeth biting at his lips and tongue sliding deeper with each thrust. Every movement of tongue was met with a hard grind of Kuron's hips, pressed flush to Keith's and accentuating the feel of a growing bulge. 

Keith's stomach shrank into a hard knot. Being forced open and pliant as he was filled his hollowed chest with panic, and the last few dregs of adrenaline he managed to dredge from the deepest parts of himself was enough to push at and budge Kuron slightly from his body. Enough so that he could turn his head and bite down hard on the man's bottom lip, piercing skin and dousing his own mouth red with the iron taste of blood. 

Kuron grinned wickedly. “That's the Keith I like,” he breathed, pushing his fingers up against Keith's Adam's apple. He pushed it against Keith's larynx and the world tilted, and for a brief moment he thought this was it. That was how he died. 

But Kuron was grabbing him by the base of the neck and pulling Keith forward. He rolled back on his haunches, forcing Keith into a position on his knees. His hands were free, fit for whatever purpose he could force them to do, but there was no electrical hum thrumming underneath his skin for a fight anymore. It was already hard enough to breathe; Keith's limbs were like overcooked noodles and his vision blurred to heatwaves off of black asphalt. He could barely comprehend where they were at this point, what was happening. 

He panted hard, forced to lean forward. Kuron tilted Keith's chin up, their eyes locking in the middle. 

“You always would let him do anything,” he muttered, the cold steel to his eyes turning eerily soft. “And it's a shame he never saw that. He was always too concerned with keeping you sheltered, innocent...” Kuron ran his fingers to the back of Keith's neck. The rush of air to Keith's battered lungs made his vision explode in bright lights, and he gasped, momentarily distracted. Not a second was able to roll by before Kuron's grip was tightening though, dragging forward with the intensity of slamming his face to the ground. 

Keith's vision darkened. Kuron's abdomen blotted out the surroundings, suffocating Keith like a pillow pressed to his mouth and nose. He scrambled for purchase, for precious air, a hand wrapping tight around Kuron's bicep as strength fluttered to life in his battered muscles. Kuron killed the motivation before it could fester, both hands grabbing Keith by the elbows. He wrenched them back and earned himself a sharp cry of surprised pain, and with his arms tied and held high above his head behind him, Keith was rendered useless again. 

“Now, now,” Kuron murmured, moving Keith's hands into one grip again. “Not like this, now. Give in, Keith. This is the last and only time you'll ever get to be like _this_ with him.” 

It was so hard to resist the strange lilt to that voice. It cracked and spit acid between his teeth, yet underneath the overlying threat, Keith could hear _Shiro. _It was a dangerous tone of voice, one Keith had grown to find comfortable, warming; yet in those years together, he'd always longed for that voice to venture further down a path of no return and whisper what he always wanted to hear, wanted to do.__

__Now that Keith was met with it, he didn't know _what_ to do. This wasn't Shiro and yet it was. There had been that glimmer in Kuron's eyes when Keith confessed his greatest secret. There was still something in there. And if Keith could help put two and two together, merge the moments into something more convincing, then maybe...just maybe... _ _

__He'd grown lax in Kuron's grip. A subtle sign of defeat, and one that Kuron lapped up eagerly as he jerked Keith forward._ _

__“There we go,” he murmured. “Just give in...”_ _

__The cold steel underneath Keith's knees bit against the bone. He shuddered violently as the wind whipped around them. The sound of an occasional crash kept the alarms blaring in his head as he came back to realize the structure they were on was still unstable, and yet one quick glance around them told Keith they were safe. For now._ _

__Keith licked his bruised lips and parted them for one more plea. “Please,” he breathed. “Shiro, I know you're—”_ _

__The sentence was cut off nearly the moment Keith had opened his mouth. Kuron's eyes were alight with a seething disgust, and he sneered as he wordlessly shoved Keith down._ _

__“It's time to shut your pretty mouth up,” Kuron growled, shifting carefully with Keith still in hand. The gears in his head had been reduced to rust, ticking slowly as Keith watched everything in stop motion. Kuron leaning back. Kuron shedding the necessary armor. Kuron splitting the seam of the bodysuit where the zipper at the waist remained hidden._ _

__Seeing Shiro's cock like this filled Keith's stomach with a nauseating bile. Their first time was such a distant fantasy, grounds Keith never dared tread upon. He'd wanted it so bad, in the past. He wanted to take Shiro's happiness and ecstasy and shoot it into his veins, but like this, in a body that had never been Shiro's, in a state where Shiro couldn't be himself anymore, it...it was sickening. Keith's mouth was dry and his heart hammered into his breastbone, his fight or flight begging him to do one thing or another._ _

__Wrench free._ _

__Bite it._ _

__Kick and scream until it was over._ _

__Keith couldn't do any of that, though. He was utterly still, complacent. There wasn't anyone around. There wasn't anything to say. And besides, he'd wanted this, hadn't he? It wasn't exactly how he imagined it, but he...he wanted it. And if it proved to be enough of a distraction, a stimulant to maybe kick something back into place, then..._ _

__“There you are,” Kuron murmured, head tilted as his metallic hand wound in Keith's hair. It tangled the strands around his fingers and pulled hard, forcing Keith closer to his groin. Keith swayed with the motions and parted a clumsy mouth, swallowing down hot tears to focus instead on the immediate and not what was around them._ _

__“Good boy.” Kuron's voice was a low purr, a steady hum in his chest that Keith could feel down where he was. He wrapped his cracked and bleeding lips around the crown of Shiro's cock, letting the heavy musk and strong taste overwhelm him for the moment it needed to._ _

__Kuron's grip tightened on the back of his head, squeezing. The pressure made Keith's head swim and he was so sure he'd finally just lose his grip and see nothing but the hazed black of unconsciousness. Somehow, though, somehow, he kept a hold on himself, even when Kuron groaned lowly and slid Keith lower down his length, to the back of a constricting throat that effectively made him gag._ _

__“Come on, now,” Kuron breathed, his chest heaving. “We're not gonna get anywhere if you don't let me fuck you like I want to. And I know you want it too, yeah? This is all you've ever wanted and more. And lucky you, I can fuck you better than Shiro ever can...”_ _

__Kuron stroked his fingers through Keith's bangs, before the grip turned harsh and unrelenting again. Kuron forced Keith down and he was faced with the split-second decision of learning how to deepthroat or turning this experience into a much more unpleasant one than it needed to be._ _

__He erred on the side of correction, managing to relax his throat enough to swallow. Keith fought the initial intrusion, his choked voice crying out for some kind of mercy. Kuron only worried about sheathing himself entirely, heaving a heavy sigh of contentment as he ground against Keith's face._ _

__“Ah, fuck...what I wouldn't give to hear your voice begging for more. But this will have to do...” Kuron rolled his hips, before wrenching Keith back. He only had that moment to suck in a hard, shuddering gasp before Kuron was thrusting again, right back to balls-deep. He kept up the punishing rhythm, dragging his cock hard against Keith's tongue and teeth, fucking him long, hard, and deep with his veins._ _

__“This is what he wanted too, you know,” Kuron grunted, amazingly coherent despite the deep flush to his cheeks. His eyes had grown brighter, wider, and the distant lights flashing off his teeth made them look longer._ _

__“He just wanted to take your sweet ass and _ruin you,_ god, he wanted it so bad...” Kuron laughed, a deep noise that echoed from the depths of his chest. It stuttered as he made Keith's head bob back and forward again, his tone jagged as he continued to talk. _ _

__“Ever since the beginning...ever since he left. He'd left...he had left with so many regrets, you know.” He chuckled darkly, the lights glimmering dangerously along his right arm. Keith could feel the rising heat, the heavy intensity behind Kuron's hips. At this point he seemed to have opted to drop his words in favor of fucking Keith's mouth hard and with wild abandon, his grip growing impossibly strong around Keith's head._ _

__Keith was left with the mere instinct to just _survive._ To keep breathing around the battering to his throat, to still think of a way out of all of this despite his own conflicted feelings. Keith felt ready to puke yet simultaneously get off himself, and it was a cracked whirl of shattered emotions that filled him with panicked dread. The heat had grown to a near scorch against his head, and Kuron's breath had grown more laborious. _ _

__Even careful, calculated thought wasn't necessary to come to the conclusion that Keith was dead when Kuron finished. But lying down without even the chance to try and save Shiro just wasn't on the agenda. Keith fought back the tears as best he could as his eyes flicked to the side, and there, just barely beyond his reach, was his dagger._ _

__Salvation._ _

__Keith eyed it, a million different scenarios flashing in his head. They all seemed to circle to one conclusion: managing to reach out and grab the blade, and cut Shiro's arm free from his body. And at this point, with Kuron so obviously lost to the lust they both were trapped in, it'd be easy. It was just a matter of getting to the knife without alerting the other to his intentions._ _

__Keith squeezed his eyes shut. He shuffled closer on his knees, managing a soft and quiet moan. He was met with one of Kuron's own, a pleased hum at Keith's sudden interest in finishing him off. And Keith, admittedly, was in that frame of mind. Despite the situation, the man wearing Shiro's face looked utterly _beautiful,_ prismatic colors flitting across his features and illuminating his paled skin in a pastel rainbow. He didn't look like Kuron in that moment so much as he looked like _Shiro, _and fuck, it was hard to resist giving into the motions and jacking him off with his mouth.___ _

____Keith found it in himself to move harder and quickly, managing with his own actions to loosen that grip in his hair. He pressed forward just that little bit more, an arm wrapping tight around Kuron's waist. Kuron had taken to muttering underneath his breath, quiet commands and violent suggestions. The heat was rising to an unbearable temperature and Keith's brain melted behind his eyes. He was losing himself, letting himself be taken by the situation, Kuron's haggard thrusts giving him all the signs he needed that he was growing close..._ _ _ _

____And just as everything seemed to snap and Kuron yelled out into the air, Keith had disengaged himself with a wet cough and lunged past his hip. Keith's fingers found home around his dagger and curled at the hilt, and he threw it to the air with a desperate cry and perfect, coincidental timing to feel the metal tear through where Shiro's arm met skin and turn it to perfect, wet sinew again._ _ _ _

____Shiro's arm clattered to the edge of the now-tilting disc they'd been precariously sitting on, and adrenaline shot through his veins like injected heroin. Everything was suddenly happening so quickly yet at a blur, slowed down in his mind's eye as the lights behind Shiro's eyes completely died._ _ _ _

____Maybe it was shock that blocked the rest of everything out._ _ _ _

____Keith didn't, couldn't, remember what else had happened beyond that point. All he did remember was awakening inside of Black, back pressed to the cold metal flooring. Every inch of muscle protested loudly at the slightest movements, and he'd felt like he'd been taken by each limb and folded in the opposite direction until he caved in on himself. It was hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to see._ _ _ _

____Everything slammed to even more of a halt when Keith saw Shiro next to him, benign and unconscious. He scrambled to his knees, his arms slowly going numb. His fingers trembled as he pushed them to Shiro's neck, and..._ _ _ _

____Relief washed over him. Despite their disheveled states, the pain in his throat and the blank slate of emotionless stupor that clung to his hollow chest, they were all right._ _ _ _

____They were going to be okay._ _ _ _

____Kuron's words only echoed distantly at the back of his mind as Keith dragged himself to the pilot's seat._ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> this is a complete 180 from the last thing i posted LMAO but anyway here we are. hope you enjoy this thing i wrote 80% of at work. big rip. 
> 
> [the title inspiration is a great song tho.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbuRtMUc6tM)
> 
> and as always, you can find me at my [tumblr!](rottedflowerpits.tumblr.com)


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